Beyond the Event Horizon
by Azalea Scroggs
Summary: Alternate title "Supernova". An Emperor above his Empire; a flare of venom, a rush of anger, a burst of vengeful possession; a blinding deflagration, of ardent rage and revolt entwining, then nothing; or Darth Sidious's last thoughts aboard the second Death Star.
**_Star Wars_ belongs to Lucasfilm Ltd., itself property of The Walt Disney Company. I make no lucrative nor commercial use of my writings in relationship with the _Star Wars_ license.**

 _This thing, born from a period of stress, rested a long time on my hard-drive before I found the guts to publish it - maybe it should have stayed there... many thanks to Isa'ralia Faradien for proofreading it for me. Upon noticing how many fics there were about Vader's last thoughts in ROTJ's grand finale, I tried to imagine Sidious's. A real challenge, especially considering I've hardly read any book and used only the films, and the end result ended up quite disturbing. **Hard** **T-rating**_ _, I think, and warnings for torture and sadistic thoughts - this is Palpatine in all his darkness..._

 _Still, I hope you enjoy your read. All comments are very much welcome._ _  
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"You've failed, Your Highness. I am a Jedi, like my father before me."

You look at me with triumph in your eyes, defiant, as though with those simple words you had put yourself beyond my reach. Imbecile. As though you could ever escape me in any way.

Cold fury rushes through my veins, slowly rising as I consider your choice and its consequences. There was a time, once, when I was prone to outbursts and lashed out without thinking. But years have since then long polished this tendency into a more refined form of control. Now, I simply let my feelings reach their full potency, restraining them and focusing them as I revel in the power their sweet whispers promise me.

So be it, Jedi. Let it be done your way. I remain the master in this game. If I cannot have your soul, I shall claim your life. If you will not be turned, you will be destroyed.

I let one single streak of light, pure destructive energy, surge towards you, tentatively, like an experiment. You are thrown against a canister, tumbling with your features contorted in a grimace, and as I feel your presence in the Force flare with pain and horrified surprise, I can't help but marvel at your sensitivity. So strong with the Force, yet so easily vanquished, so weakened to my power by that very ability...

Your desperate efforts to recover draw a smirk on my lips, as you know as well as I do that they will all be in vain. I can feel your emotions as clearly as though they were mine, I can hear you berate yourself for underestimating me, try to stifle your terror and muster the strength to keep fighting, useless as it may be. Young fool. Only now, at the end, do you understand.

Another burst of lightning leaves my fingertips in your direction, making you jump and nearly lose your grasp on the only thing preventing you from falling in the abyss. But while I enjoy the reflexive swell of fear overcoming you as you do everything you can to maintain your frail balance, I have no intention of letting you go down that way. There will be no such easy path for you.

Next to us, Lord Vader difficultly rises from the position you forced him in, and comes to my side, right behind me. I know you sense him, even in your distress you feel his gaze on your prostrate form. You still hope, in your delusions, that he will come to your aid. You do not yet realise how wrong you are. Your feeble skills are no match for the power of the dark side, and you are only beginning to understand to what extent. That power could have been yours, had you only embraced it... Your loss. I feel no regret for your rejection, only anticipation as I relish the thought that I have you at last, that you are in my hands, mine to do with as I please, Rebel and last of the Jedi. And punish you I will. You have paid the price for your lack of vision.

Again I strike, again you squirm in torment, unable to defend yourself, but this time I do not stop the onslaught. White-hot hands of pain run across your body, stroking your skin and reaching for your every weakness, as your back arcs and you collapse on the ground. It is only brushing you for now, its caresses far from the exquisite anguish I am capable of summoning, yet you writhe and scream in unbearable agony. You thrash about against the force enfolding you like a shroud, uselessly struggling to free yourself from your bonds of fire. But all your efforts are foiled by the violence I thrust upon you. Your fate cannot be avoided. You are trapped, entirely at my mercy.

Despite myself, I am fascinated by the sight you offer me, helpless, vulnerable, and I wonder how desperate Kenobi must have been, to send you against us so young and so poorly trained. It seems Lord Vader was right, when we discussed you about a year ago. For all your natural power in the Force, for all the blows you dealt the Empire, you are just a boy. And at the moment you truly do look like a child, your hand weakly reaching out towards your father, begging and imploring him to save you.

But he will not. He has demonstrated that already, and only your stubbornness prevents you from seeing it. He stands draped in darkness, coldly watching you suffer at my hands, waiting to see your light be smothered.

He is mine. Just as you are.

Finally I contain my assault, beholding your prone figure at my feet. Smoke is rising from your clothes and under them I know you too are burning. Your face is set in a excruciated mask, your breathing hard and ragged, your arms held together in a last attempt at protection. The fragile shields you had erected around your mind have fallen, I feel your growing resignation, your hopes and dreams shattering one by one, as you brace yourself for the inevitable. You already know what is to come, little Jedi, but I cannot help from taunting you with it.

Now, young Skywalker, you will die.

For the last time, I raise my hands, and your tortured howls resound in the room as at last I unleash upon you the whole vehemence of my might. Blue screeching bolts pour inside you relentlessly, penetrating every single one of your cells, worming themselves in the deepest of your being. It scorches your flesh, sears your bones, boils your blood, and you are unable to suppress the spasms racking your body. In truth you are no longer in control of any of your movements. Even that I have torn from you, your muscles bound to my command by the threads of light I wield. Tears are streaming down your cheeks, sweat is drenching your hair, you are trembling uncontrollably, curling up on yourself by instinct to try and find a relief that I deny you with delight.

I cannot tear my eyes off you in the intensity of your last moments, as the lethal power flows through me and towards you without restraint. I am enraptured by the beauty of your flailing presence in the Force, convulsing like a dying supernova. I am enthralled by your churning emotions, entranced by your broken and erratic thoughts, now reduced to the most primitive of compulsions. Only by my will are you still awake: all laws of nature would have long granted you the blessing of unconsciousness. But I will not release you, nor will I bestow on you the clemency of a clean killing blow. I take too much pleasure in drinking from your cup of suffering. I want to see how long you will last, whether your heart will give out under sheer pain or be stopped by the shocks I inflict upon it. I want to look on you while you feel the thread of your life fray, while you taste the stench of death slowly sweeping over you. I will steal your final thoughts as I offer you to the Force, I will conquer your quivering body and press stillness upon it, I will wring your last breath from your lips when obscurity engulfs your bright presence forever...

Suddenly I lose all control as my feet are lifted from the ground, and the lightning splatters all around, bereft of a target. For a short moment, I am taken aback. It is Vader; Vader, whose loyalty I had believed unshakeable; but then haven't his loved ones always been his greatest weakness? In truth I was so captivated by my prey's last struggles that I didn't notice my apprentice's growing conflict, and I am infuriated by this beginner's mistake. Enraged, I reach out with my powers, trying one last time to destroy the weakened Jedi. I feel Vader's protectiveness towards his son, and I swear the boy will not get out of here alive, if only to punish his traitorous father. But the renegade Sith stands between him and me, and I quickly change my aim.

The lightning sparkles and shrieks against the cyborg's armour. He stumbles under my weight as I viciously fight his grasp, wires in his suit are short-circuiting, and I know with some satisfaction he will not survive if he does not let me down this instant. For some endless seconds, it seems as though I will win. Vader's presence grows fainter, he is having more and more difficulty to hold me. But in a last outburst of strength, I feel him throw me above the barrier, in the shaft below, and I know everything is over.

All-powerful wrath seizes me at that thought. I lash out one last time towards my old apprentice, and can only see him collapse as I whirl down and down the chasm. I have no longer any notion of high and low, no coherent thought going through my head. All that remains is destructive hatred, and I swear, over and over, that they will pay, that I will haunt them and curse them until they crumble in ashes.

I smell burnt flesh and see blue light swirl around me, and some part of my mind recalls another occurrence of this, but I am too angered to truly experience any pain. It is as though my aggressive feelings were slowly overcoming my whole reason and thoughts. I scream, but can no longer form any words. My soul is consumed by a fury too great for it, so that I cannot see, I cannot hear, I cannot feel.

Then there is a great burst of light, swiftly followed by nothingness.


End file.
